


Indispensable

by ClassyGirlsWearPearls



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Gen, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyGirlsWearPearls/pseuds/ClassyGirlsWearPearls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is kidnapped. Sherlock finds this unacceptable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indispensable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miamf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miamf/gifts).



> Based on this post on Tumblr by martinfreeman:
> 
> "john getting kidnapped and sherlock bursting through the door to rescue him and trying to untie him and but his hands are shaking too badly while john is perfectly calm and ends up soothing sherlock and promising him that everything’s fine while he’s still tied to a chair"

Three officers were restraining Sherlock from lunging forward and storming into the house where John was being kept. Lestrade was talking over a radio to officers who were surrounding the house and there was a hostage negotiator talking to the man with the gun next to them bit Sherlock couldn’t give a damn about that. _John_ was in the house with someone else. Someone else who had a gun and who was threatening to shoot John if the police didn’t cooperate.

 

Unacceptable.

 

Sherlock’s brain was racing. He counted on John to keep him calm. His brain was hysterical from being separated from John. What would he do if John was gone permanently?

 

“Mr. Holmes?” Sherlock focused on the face of the hostage negotiator, which showed nothing. “Mr. Stephens says that Dr. Watson would like to speak to you.” The man held out an earpiece for an officer to put into Sherlock’s ear.

 

“John,” he gasped.

 

“Calm down, you moron,” John sighed, a smile in his voice.

 

“John,” Sherlock said again, his voice strained.

 

“Sherlock.” Sherlock could hear John begin to frown. “Hey. Listen to me. Calm down. I’m fine, okay. Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” he lied, making sure to calm himself down enough just in case the suspect was listening to his end of the conversation.

 

“Stop wasting your energy fighting to get away from those cops,” John scolded gently. “My friend on the inside here has been sneaking peeks out and can see you, you daft buggering git. Just calm yourself down. Everything is going to be alright.”

 

“Of course it is, John. Don’t be an idiot.” Sherlock heard his voice waver, to his horror.

 

“I can’t help being an idiot, Sherlock. Nearly everyone it,” John shot back.

 

“Alright, foreplay’s over,” an unfamiliar voice cut in. “I want to talk to that first guy again.”

 

The hostage negotiator quickly removed Sherlock’s earpiece and began talking to the suspect again. Sherlock resumed his struggle against the cops for a few moments despite what John had said. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, the sound of a gun firing, and Sherlock was off. He could hear Lestrade shouting behind him and perceived officers running after him, but none of that mattered. He threw himself against the door, breaking the flimsy wood down using the momentum he had built up running down the slight hill of the front yard.

 

“ ** _John_** ,” he shouted, running around the small house and looking into rooms. If there was ever a time where Sherlock Holmes prayed, it was in that moment, hoping that the suspect had been shot and that it wasn’t John who was potentially dead.

 

“Kitchen, Sherlock,” a voice called.

 

Sherlock spun around and sprinted around the house, skidding around a corner to find John tied up in a chair next to the body of the man who had kidnapped him. The gun was still in his hand and blood was leaking out of his head.

 

“Couldn’t see a way out,” John shrugged. Sherlock looked carefully at him. He didn’t appear injured, and he looked as calm as he did when he had the time to have a cup of tea and read the paper in their flat. His hands were handcuffed behind his back, and a rope was tightly bound around his chest and each of his ankles to bind him to the chair.

 

“John,” Sherlock croaked. He knelt behind the chair and pulled his lock picks out of his pocket. His hands shook as he freed John from the handcuffs. Eventually, the handcuffs fell off and John’s wrists were free. Sherlock stepped in the front of the chair and grabbed John’s face in both of his hands. Ignoring the fact that there were officers all around them, he growled, “Do not _ever_ do something this stupid again. You could have _died_ , John. What would be the point if you were gone?”

 

“Sherlock,” John breathed. “Sherlock, its fine. I would rather they take me than you. You’re much more valuable than I am.”

 

“No,” Sherlock snarled menacingly, dropping to his knees. “Don’t ever go where I can’t follow you. Do you understand me?” He grabbed the ropes around one of John’s ankles and began to try to untie the knot, but his hands were shaking uncontrollably and he ended up dropping his head on John’s knee and trying to breathe deeply.

 

John maneuvered his arms so they were at his sides and threaded his fingers into Sherlock’s hair. “Sherlock, I’m fine. I promise. I’ll be more careful in the future. Just please, clam down Sherlock, you’re frightening me.”

 

Sherlock nuzzled his forehead into John’s leg and wrapped his arms around John’s calves. “I’m so sorry I let him take you. Forgive me?”

 

John startled. “You didn’t let him. Sometimes things just happen.”

 

“Do you forgive me?” Sherlock looked up, pain in his eyes, pleading.

 

He looked up. Officers were swarming the room, and Sherlock was choosing _this_ moment to have a moment where he showed any emotion. John searched for Lestrade, who was about ten feet away. He held eye contact with the man for a few seconds, which was all Lestrade needed to say, “Alright everyone, let’s clear out so we can get organized and give Dr. Watson a moment to breathe.”

 

Slowly, the officers trickled out until it was just John, Sherlock, and the corpse of a murderer turned kidnapper next to them.

 

“There is nothing to forgive, Sherlock,” John smiled down at him.

 

“Please?”

 

John sighed. “Yes, then, since you need to hear it. I forgive you. Are you alright now?”

 

Sherlock shook his head. “I thought I had lost you.”

 

“Why would you run in if you thought that he had shot me?” John asked. “He would have just killed you as soon as you got to him.”

 

“That was rather the point, John. Without you, there would be no point in anything. There would be nobody to ground me or to tell me that what I was doing wasn’t good or just to be _you._ You are indispensable, John.”

 

John was silent for a moment, his throat incredibly tight. “You know the same goes for you,” he managed to squeeze out. “I would be hobbling around with a limp that wasn’t real and with no direction without you. You’re my whole life, Sherlock, and if you were gone, I would have nothing.”

 

Sherlock breathed deeply and pulled himself up partially, wrapping his arms around John, keeping himself at an awkward angle. John stretched his arms so he was able to grasp Sherlock’s hips and pull him into his lap.

 

“This is an odd position,” Sherlock said into John’s shoulder.

 

“We’re an odd pair,” John pointed out. He traced small circles on Sherlock’s lower back. “We’re alright, Sherlock. Everything is alright.”

 

Sherlock nodded, then pulled back and looked right into John’s eyes again. When asked later, neither of them were able to say who had made the first move, but suddenly their lips were pressed together in a light, chase kiss. When they pulled away, John said, “I think we need to have a few important conversations when we’re done here.”

 

“Talking is boring, John. Don’t be boring,” Sherlock smiled.

 

John chuckled. “Could you go ahead and untie me so we can go home?”

 

“Of course.” Sherlock looked around the kitchen for a large, sharp knife, and upon locating one used it to cut John free. Once he stood, John walked into Sherlock’s arms and they hugged tightly.

 

“Ready to go home?” John asked.

 

“Of course.”

 

The two of them walked out brushing shoulders. Sherlock caught Lestrade’s eye as they exited the house and called, “We will be in at noon tomorrow for statements.”

 

Lestrade nodded at them. “Not a minute later,” he said sternly, but with a bit of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

 

The two of them walked off to the main street to find a cab. They didn’t say anything on the way home, but a minute after they slid in Sherlock reached for John’s hand and laced their fingers together.


End file.
